


no place but here for you

by ottermo



Category: On My Block (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, death mention, they’re BEST FRIENDS damnit where was this scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 20:24:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18289598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ottermo/pseuds/ottermo
Summary: ~ Season 2 Spoilers ~Ruby ends the truce, and Jamal’s not okay with him blaming himself.





	no place but here for you

**Author's Note:**

> This was born of my rewatching 1x05 and catching Jamal’s line, “I’m best with Ruby when he cries” and then watching an entire second season of Ruby’s PTSD avoiding Jamal like the plague. Listen, I love love love love love how many supportive dynamics this show serves but I still felt cheated on my son’s behalf. So, here. 
> 
> I don’t wanna talk myself out of posting this by trying to find a place in the storyline where it could actually fit, so let’s just say it’s canon divergent if need be.
> 
> Title is probably a DGHDA reference, but then, isn’t everything?

 

 

In the end, Jamal stops him pacing by planting a hand on each of his shoulders and saying, “Ruby. Stop. What’s with you, what happened?” 

“I ended the truce.”

Jamal’s eyes widen, but his face immediately softens, switches back to soothing. “Hey, no. You didn’t, you can’t have, what could you have possibly…” 

“I just performed a rap to a bunch of drunk Santos strongly underlining how satisfying it would be to kill a Prophet.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Was it a good rap?”

“Not the point, Jamal.” 

“Sorry.” 

“I wish it hadn’t been.” 

Jamal slings an arm around Ruby’s shoulders and pulls him in, easy like he’s done for years. “Whatever you did, those guys barely need an excuse to roll up on the Prophets. You know they’re never that far away from it. It was only a…”

“A matter of time, I know, I know,” says Ruby, cutting him off. “I know, if it wasn’t me, it would have been someone else. But it wasn’t someone else, it was me. It was going to be someone and it was me. It’s like–”

He shrugs Jamal off and walks a couple paces, continues while his back is turned. “It’s like, it’s the same as before, because people get shot, you know? Bad things, good people and all of that shit. If it hadn’t been Olivia it would have been someone else. But it wasn’t! It wasn’t! It was her, and just because it could have been anyone doesn’t make it easier, and just because the truce was fragile doesn’t mean I don’t want to…. I don’t…” 

He’s a believer in letting people have their say until it’s said, but even Jamal can’t listen to him cry for too long after the words drop out of the mix. He steps around Ruby so they’re face to face again, wraps his arms around him tight. 

“Ruby,” he says, but this time it’s the end of the sentence. He should’ve known, should’ve trusted his old style of handling things like this: Ruby is a logician, a debater, the latest in a long line of reasoning. Right now, he doesn’t need to be rationalised, he just needs to be held, to be tied to the real world in some tangible way, not floating out there on the fringe of his hysteria. When they were kids, this was what had always set Jamal apart: he got that, knew what it was like to be spiralling while some level-headed Monse or straight-talking Cesar tried to knock sense into you. Sometimes there just wasn’t any sense to be had. 

“I got you,” says Jamal. He feels Ruby’s arms shrink in a little closer. 

Later, sniffling, Ruby says, “Sorry,” and Jamal swears he can hear his own heart break. 

“You never have to be sorry,” he says, earnest, one hand on his heart because he means it and because he doesn’t know what to do with his arms now they’ve parted. 

“Feels like all I do is break down on people these days. Well, that and incite gang wars.” 

Ignoring the addendum, Jamal just says, “Only place any of us wants to be is here for you.” 

Ruby nods. Jamal’s glad it’s not news. 

“I guess it just feels like… disrespect to her memory,” Ruby says, voice a little bolder but no less forlorn. “The fact it was me.”

“Listen, what the Santos do with your words is on them,” Jamal says, sensing that the spiral is loosening every time Ruby breathes a little deeper. “You didn’t disrespect Olivia’s memory with this.” He waits a beat. “The dictionary came a little closer, but even then.” 

“Come on, man.” It counts as a smile. Jamal’s counting it, anyway. 

“Nah, you know I’m with you on that one. It was the perfect gift. It would’ve made her laugh.” 

“You think so?”

“Yeah. You’re pretty good at knowing what people need.”

Ruby nudges against Jamal’s arm. “So are you, then.”

“What, this? No, no. This is all for me, buddy. I’ve been looking to get in on this panic attack action since the day you came home.”

In spirit, he’s serious. He’s tired of these things happening while his back is turned, while he’s digging up fields or chaperoning dances, or taking Abuelita to soak her hands in goat pee. After all, he and Ruby are supposed to be best friends. That’s the deal, as per the trade-off. 

“Well, there’s plenty to go around,” Ruby says, wryly. “There’ll be more gunshots now, for a start.” 

“Eish, yeah. Hey, if only that truce was still on, huh.” 

Ruby rests his head against Jamal’s shoulder. “Yeah. What kind of bozo put a stop to that.”

“My favorite one,” says Jamal, and means it.

 

 


End file.
